


Compound Fracture

by dragonofthesea



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Mild Angst, Season 1, sickfic sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 22:58:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12663162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofthesea/pseuds/dragonofthesea
Summary: Reid is injured during a case, and Morgan takes care of him.Set during Reid's first year in the BAU. It's the beginning of their friendship and the origin of a nickname.





	Compound Fracture

**Author's Note:**

> I do not ship Reid and Morgan. I am a big fan of platonic relationships and I didn't write this to be anything other than that. They have a beautiful and wholesome friendship. That said, this fic can be read as platonic or pre-romantic, whatever floats your boat. Let me know if you like it or not. This is what I love to write!

Reid was panicking. The world spun around him, hushed and disoriented, and though he tried to control his breathing the air seemed to be winning its battle against his lungs. He could feel the atoms of oxygen and hydrogen and nitrogen in between the specks of dust floating around the tiny room, coating his eyes, his hair, his skin in grime. A finger traced his cheek, and he did his best not to struggle against the iron arms that held him, tried not to give the unsub exactly what he wanted—  
“Don’t worry, Pretty Boy,” a horrible voice cooed, “I’m going to take real good care of you.”  
There was a loud crack as the unsub twisted Reid’s arm behind his back. Reid didn’t quite succeed in keeping the scream that came out of him under control. In a haze of pain and desperation, he kicked backwards as hard as he could, hitting the unsub’s shin and feeling a vague satisfaction when the figure pressed against him crumpled.   
Just then, the door burst open and a voice, distinctly Morgan’s, yelled,  
“FBI!”  
The beams of several flashlights found his face, blinding him temporarily. The rest of his senses were as alert as ever, though, as were his reflexes, and when another voice yelled—   
“Reid, get down!”   
—he hit the ground as hard as he could, shielding his injured arm with the rest of his body as he rolled toward the wall. Gunshots rang out and a moment later the whole house was rattled by the unsub’s body hitting the floor.  
Dead silence followed. Reid’s ears rang from the explosion, and in the aftermath his hand went numb as sharp, tingling pain shot all the way up to his shoulder. With his other arm, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, but he couldn’t get any farther.   
“Reid?”  
Morgan crouched in front of him, eyebrows knit together. His eyes looked him up and down, trying to find markers of anything wrong. They landed at the apex of the tension lines radiating through his body—the protective shell he had formed around his right arm.  
“What happened?”  
Reid cleared his throat. “Think… I think he broke my arm.”  
“Show me.”  
It took him a moment to get around the rigidity in his body, to be able to relax enough to extend his legs a little and move his arm forward. Morgan cupped his elbow gently, and Reid winced. He caught a glimpse of his own hand for the first time since the attack and almost threw up. His hand was turning purple and his wrist was already grotesquely swollen and only seemed to get worse as he looked at it. He saw Morgan grimace.  
“Medic’s outside. Can you walk?”  
“Yeah, I can walk,” Reid said weakly, holding out his good arm and allowing Morgan to help him up. As soon as he stood, his vision took a swan dive and he almost fell again, but Morgan caught him.

The horizon was getting hazy with the impending sunrise by the time Reid climbed the stairs to his apartment, Morgan close behind him to keep him from falling. Reid was exhausted and sore and his arm weighed a million pounds but the rest of his body felt like it might float away. Thinking about it entertained him, imagining an arm in a cast just gliding all alone up the stairs.  
It took him forever to unlock his door. In fact, he never opened it at all. After a few minutes of watching him struggle, Morgan grabbed the keys from him and took over.   
“Thanks,” Reid mumbled.  
Morgan guided him inside, but stopped just inside the doorway. Reid turned around and saw him staring at all of the piles of books.  
“Shit,” Morgan eloquently stated. “I mean, I knew you were a nerd, but this a whole other level.”  
In his addled state, Reid couldn’t tell if it was a joke or think of a witty response, so he just forced a laugh and tried not to fall asleep standing up.  
“Well, thanks for giving me a ride home,” he said after a moment.  
“Of course,” Morgan replied, smirking. “Anytime, kid.”  
Reid nodded. “Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you next week.”  
“What are you talking about?”  
Morgan was looking at him so intently, genuine confusion written all over his face, and Reid racked his brains, trying to think of what Morgan could possibly think he was talking about and coming up empty. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, until Morgan took it upon himself to clarify.  
“I’m staying with you.”  
All of a sudden, Reid felt like he had whiplash on top of a broken wrist.   
“W-what?” He stuttered. “Why?”  
“You didn’t think I was just gonna leave you here by yourself, did you?” Morgan seemed incredulous, and Reid suddenly felt a flash of anger.  
“You know, contrary to everyone believes, I’m not some helpless little kid. I can actually take care of myself.”   
Morgan stepped toward him. “Reid, you’ve been with the BAU six months and you’ve already proved yourself. To me and everyone else. You don’t need to worry about that. I’m here because you’re hurt, and I don’t want you to be alone.”  
Standing there, with no doubt in his mind that Morgan was being completely truthful, Reid was struck by a realization: he had not had a real friend in years. Social life was complicated when you were several years younger than everyone around you. And ever since his dad left, it had been mostly him taking care of his mom, not the other way around. He had learned how to get by on his own, to steel himself against the loneliness that came symbiotically with all of the other things that went on in his head. It wasn’t that he felt he wasn’t a part of the team; Morgan was right about that, he fit right in. But he hadn’t anticipated getting so close to the other members, even though they all practically lived together. Maybe having someone who cared enough about him to stay the night was part of being in the BAU.  
“Okay,” Reid conceded, all of his energy leaving him again. “Thank you.”  
Morgan smiled, and something about it was a little sad, as though he could guess what had just been going on in Reid’s head. “Come on, kid. You look ready to collapse.”  
Morgan led him into the bedroom and helped him take off his shoes when bending over made Reid dizzy. That made Reid a little embarrassed; he couldn’t remember the last time someone had had to take his shoes off for him. Actually, he could, and that memory only made it worse.   
Morgan left while Reid changed into his pajamas. It was a challenge to maneuver the clothing over his body, but he refused to have Morgan help him dress. That seemed like a level they hadn’t yet reached (and that Reid wasn’t altogether enthusiastic about ever reaching). He found his mind wandering, now that he was alone for the first time since his time with the unsub. Images flashed through his mind: the darkness, the smell of the dusty cellar, the creaky floorboards, the unsub’s vice-like grip, the smell of his breath, the sound of his own bones breaking—  
Reid shook his head and forced himself to take a deep breath. It was over now, he reminded himself. He was home. And he wasn’t alone.   
Still, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of breath on the back of his neck, and the things the unsub had said to him…  
“Reid, you should be in bed.”  
Spencer found himself in the living room with his whole bones becoming heavy in sympathy with his broken ones. He gazed tiredly at Morgan but couldn’t seem to find any words.   
“Something on your mind, kid?”  
Reid sighed. “He called me ‘Pretty Boy,’” he explained.   
“Who did?”  
“The unsub.” Reid forces himself to use the name. “Garrickson. He said, ‘Don’t worry, Pretty Boy, I’m going to take real good care of you.’” The words left a bad taste in his mouth.   
“Pretty Boy,” Morgan repeated.   
Reid nodded. The words had no malice coming from Morgan’s mouth, but it still was not something he ever wanted to be called again.   
“You are pretty,” Morgan grinned.   
Reid found himself blushing. It probably went without saying that he was even less familiar with affection than he was with standard friendship.  
“What do I do?” He found himself saying. “How do I get it out of my head?”  
“Easy,” Morgan replied. “I’ll call you pretty boy, pretty boy.”  
“But how—?”  
“Exposure therapy. The more you hear it coming from me, the less you’ll associate it with Garrickson. Because I’ll use it the right way. What do you think, pretty boy? Is that okay?”  
“Yeah, that’s okay.”  
“Alright, pretty boy. Get your ass to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”  
The words were already starting to lose some of their power. As he walked into the bedroom, Reid smiled, tracing the map of his life, so thankful that all the lines had led here; to D.C., to the BAU, to Derek Morgan.


End file.
